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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22510765">First Impression</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarky_panda/pseuds/dramatic%20owl'>dramatic owl (snarky_panda)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Quantum Leap</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Female Friendship, First Meetings, Gen, Minor Character(s), No one is leaping</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 09:09:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,355</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22510765</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarky_panda/pseuds/dramatic%20owl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><i>She caught her first glimpse of Donna Elesee when she stood up for a much-needed stretch, unsure what it was about the woman that grabbed her attention.</i> On her way to a job interview Verbena Beeks meets Donna Elesee.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Half a Moon: 14 Days of Celebrating Women, Ladies Bingo 2019</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>First Impression</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the ladiesbingo prompt: silhouette and for the halfamoon prompt: shadow.</p><p>Content note: mentions of/implied potential offscreen stalking.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In August 1981, Verbena Beeks had both her MD and PhD, and was on her way to an interview for a government-run project in Santa Fe, New Mexico, where the project leaders were more interested in her PhD in neuroscience than her MD and clinical psychiatric experience. A position in their AI and robotics department, it was a fascinating opportunity and one she didn't want to pass up.</p><p>Sitting on an aisle seat gave her the sense of a little more space, but it was still pretty cramped and she was only on the first leg of the journey, to New York. She would be stuck on buses for two-plus days, with only a couple of transfers coming up and some rest stops here and there. There were rules dictating what the government could or could not pay for, supposedly, and after a couple of promising phone interviews she'd decided to gamble and spend the money on the trip out to New Mexico for the in-person follow-up interviews. She'd had to arrange her own way to Santa Fe and the available flights were way beyond her budget. Bus was the cheapest way to go, but it was far from comfortable.</p><p>She caught her first glimpse of Donna Elesee when she stood up for a much-needed stretch, unsure what it was about the woman that grabbed her attention. It was the middle of the night and dark – she'd mistakenly concluded that traveling at such an odd hour of the night would mean the bus wouldn't be full – so she couldn't see her face. All she saw was a shadow with long hair sitting next to the window, two rows back and across the aisle. A man sat next to her, chatting quietly but animatedly, and she periodically nodded or shook her head in response.</p><p>With an impatient sigh, Verbena turned away and sat back down, checked her watch. A little after two-thirty. Over two hours until they reached New York at around five o'clock in the morning and then she'd have three hours to freshen up in the restroom with a sink and automatic hand dryer and grab breakfast before boarding another bus to St. Louis, where she'd be trapped for hours. She switched on her overhead light, opened the book she'd brought, started to read then gave up, switched the light off. She never could sleep well on a bus, but she had no patience for reading or anything else either.</p><p>Something she couldn't pinpoint – a sensation, a feeling, something aside from anxiety and dread of the long uncomfortable trip ahead of her – hummed at the back of her head, unsettling her. The silhouette of the woman two rows back filled her mind and she stood up again, stepped into the aisle and twisted around under the pretense of another stretch.</p><p>Now she saw it. The posture that telegraphed discomfort. The way the woman kept her face turned towards the window and away from the man sitting next to her. The way every time he leaned in, encroaching on her space, her breath got shallower, the way she was subtly attempting to make herself smaller and pressing tighter against the side of the bus.</p><p>Everyone stirred at the crackle of the microphone and the driver's well-timed announcement that they would be arriving in Hartford shortly. They'd be parked there for twenty-minutes, he said, so people could get off the bus for a short break. Verbena grabbed her carry-on bag from the overhead compartment, packed her book, and sat down on the edge of her seat, ready to bolt.</p><p>When the bus stopped and the overhead lights went on, she watched the man two rows back step out into the aisle and back, allowing the woman to get out and walk ahead of him. Verbena leaped up and stopped her with an enthusiastic smile.</p><p>"Oh my God, hi! How are you?"</p><p>She blinked, startled, but after a brief pause of confusion she picked up on the opportunity to escape and went along with the charade.</p><p>"Wow! Hi! It's been such a long time! How are you?"</p><p>"I'm great. On my way to some job interviews halfway across the country." Verbena gestured for her to go ahead and followed, placing herself between her and the man. "Are you staying in Hartford?"</p><p>"No, just stretching my legs. I'm going to New York."</p><p>When they were both off the bus, Verbena linked arms with her and they walked into the station together. The tension the woman held inside was palpable but it seemed to ease somewhat once they reached the safety of the ladies' room.</p><p>"Thank you. He wouldn't leave me alone, from the time I got to the waiting room at the station."</p><p>She was soft-spoken and seemed very sweet. Too polite and too intimidated probably to flat-out tell the guy to leave her alone.</p><p>"No problem. I could see he was annoying you." Verbena released her arm and extended a hand to shake. "I'm Verbena."</p><p>Her smile was stiff and she was trembling; she was barely holding herself together. But she took Verbena's hand and shook it firmly. "Donna. It's nice to meet you."</p><p>Verbena took in her appearance in the bright light of the restroom. White, with a summer tan now; dark hair and eyes; very pretty. Men probably bothered her every day of her life. Donna wore a skirt that fell just below the knee to travel instead of something more comfortable, at least what she considered comfortable, like loose-fitting pants. Her gaze shifted down to the brownish-red she'd seen out of the corner of her eye. Streaks of dried blood and dirt marred Donna's calves, especially the right one, the bottom of her skirt was smudged and frayed at the edge.</p><p>"What happened?" she asked in alarm.</p><p>Donna's control slipped and she burst into tears. With soothing words and a gentle hand on her back, Verbena guided her toward the sink, grabbed some paper towel and wetted it with soap and water.</p><p>"There was a man following me," she began to explain tearfully. "I mean, I didn't see him—it was dark but—"</p><p>"Here," Verbena said gently, handing her the damp towel.</p><p>"I tripped and fell when I was running and ripped the bottom of my skirt." She gestured helplessly at her scraped calves and the hem of the skirt. "Then I thought I was late when I got to South Station so I rushed to the gate—"</p><p>Her sobbing prevented her from speaking more.</p><p>"It's okay. You're safe now. I'm sorry this happened, but at least you're okay." Verbena set her bag on the counter and rifled through it until she came up with tissues and band aids. "I don't have any alcohol pads, but the soap and water should do it."</p><p>Donna nodded and plucked a tissue from the pack she offered, wiped her face. Verbena patted her arm reassuringly then stepped aside so the other women who'd come in could use the sink, leaving the band-aids and tissues out so she could help herself to whatever she needed. She waited patiently while Donna set her bag down, leaned against the counter to support herself, and started to clean off the dirt and dried blood with the soapy towel. </p><p>"The guy sitting next to you—?"</p><p>"Just some guy who latched onto me in the waiting room and insisted on sitting with me when he saw I was boarding the same bus. He wouldn't take a hint and stop talking. I guess it didn't occur to him that I might want to sleep at two-thirty in the morning."</p><p>"Or that maybe you needed some space."</p><p>"Yeah," she laughed, shakily. Her tears had subsided mostly, but she still sniffled a little.</p><p>She finished tending to her cuts and scrapes, then she leaned over the sink and washed her face.</p><p>"When we get back on the bus we can sit together if you'd like. I'm going all the way to New York too."</p><p>Donna dried her face and hands with a paper towel, smiled at her in the mirror. "That would be great. Thanks, Verbena."</p>
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